A Batgirl Among Batmen
by cRaZy.As.ThEy.SaY
Summary: What if your ENTIRE family was lost in the madness of the Scarecrow? Nicole's was. During TDK. Rated T for violence to come.
1. Chapter 1

_Have you ever listened to someone you love die?_

_My answer is yes. I've listened to seven people I love die. One by one they or someone else took their lives, each over the telephone or television—driven by their own insanity. I was in Wayne Tower with my friend on a school tour._

_First I listened to my mother die. Screaming before she hit the ground._

_Second, I heard my eldest brother die. He jumped into the river—thinking an alien was chasing him._

_Third, fourth, and fifth, I listened to my little sisters die—via the nearest television—by having someone deranged hang them._

_Sixth was my father on my cell phone, jumping after my mother on the other side of the Narrows._

_Seventh was my twin brother—who told me how he knew Batman would save him as a maniac laughed in the background and placed a timed bomb on the ground._

_That's why I became what I was during the Joker killings. _

_**A Batgirl among Batmen.**_

_**A Dark Knight/Batman Begins Fanfiction**_

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own "The Dark Knight", "Batman Begins", or any products mentioned in this fanfiction. They belong to their rightful owners and creators. Nicole//Batgirl belongs to me, as does her foster mother—Andrea, Marcus, Gino—her manager, and all original characters: meaning if you haven't heard of a character before, they're probably mine._

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* * *

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As I sat on my worn-out bed, I held tight to an almost-full-head mask, formed like the Batman's cowl. The night before I had gone to the Narrows and captured the man who'd killed my sisters, it wasn't very hard to do, but getting him to come along was harder. But I still got him turned in at the police station. I wanted charges—I wanted that man to suffer for what he did.

"Lights out, Miss Strange!" barked the land lady from the room across the hall. "I don't want you staying up late watching that crime, got it? Heaven forbid you're messed up enough!"

Well, my last name was Strange, wasn't it?

But she was guardian over me until I turned eighteen in two month's time—so I obeyed her orders and turned off the light and closed the door. I waited thirty long minutes in the dark and let my eyes adjust before digging though my closet for my suit.

It took me three minutes to find it, all the while the sounds of screams and screeching tires wafting up through the window and to my ears. Silently, I slipped into the suit, a black turtleneck made out of highly resistant material, a black miniskirt, black leggings, boots, the mask, and a gold belt.

After it was all on, I slipped out the window and climbed down the fire escape, knowing where I would go on my brother's old Harley—painted grey. I was heading to inner Gotham, where real crime happened.

As the Harley revved, I smirked. This was the sound I liked to hear, grumbling motors and screeching tires. Most people didn't like me for that, but I just let them deal with it, they weren't me. I wasn't them, and that's all that mattered at the moment.

The engine revved again as I traveled over the bridge and entered Downtown Gotham. My speed dramatically decreased as a large black tank sped past me, leaving me wide-eyed and surprised. Eventually I stopped, not comprehending what I'd seen, disbelieving.

"Hey, Little Miss Sunshine, what's a pretty lady like you doing in such a spotty place like this?" a drunken voice crooned from the darkness. Soon a large man stumbled from the alleyway, a bottle in his right hand, and a cigarette in the other. "You should have some protection from the shady men in these parts."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't count, do you?" I inquired, my grip tightening on the handlebars of my Harley. The man chuckled and bumbled closer to me before proceeding to yank me off the motorcycle while dropping the cigarette. "_What_ are you doing?" I spat.

"Taking ya somewhere safe, little lady."

I growled. "No you're not. You're taking me to your place, aren't you? You're gonna' get me drunk." The man nodded. Once again I growled, "Try another plan." Before landing a kick in the knee. He buckled to the ground.

"Oh, a feisty one…" a new voice called from the opposite side of the street. "I like you."

"Don't you dare try doing the same or you'll end up in the hospital with a broken nose."

I rolled my eyes as the new man laughed. "Ah my darling child, so witty. Maroni will like that. Why don't you stop playing dress-up and take off the mask."

"You. Wish." I spat through my teeth.

"Oh, don't play like that. How about you tag along with me tonight, I have a meeting with a certain dealer."

That sparked my interest. "What dealer?"

"Chechen."

My eyebrows rose, "Really? Well, I guess I must, if such an honored dealer is there." The rouse was formed in a mere moment. "Maybe I can take off my mask if you're taking me to my dealer as well."

"You buy from Chechen?" The man inquired as he stepped out from the shadows, staring at me curiously. I nodded as the man drew a handkerchief from his pocket. "Let's go, then."

Self-consciously, I pulled the cowl from my head, my hair falling out from the up-fold I'd made to fit the French plait I'd done to keep my hair out of harm's way.

As I approached him, his hands latched onto my wrists and pulled them behind my back. I let out a loud groan of pain while trying to grit my teeth. "Who are you?"

"Just someone in charge of leverage," the man said soothingly, dragging me along through the alley to a black minivan. I was lifted up and placed on his shoulder, my hands now tied by a tight knot. "In case something goes wrong, we'll use you."

I let out a loud screech. "Put me down!"

"You got someone?" a rough voice asked as I was placed in the back of the van. The man who had tied me up tied a different handkerchief over my eyes.

"Yeah. Must be hooked on something, dressed in some bat get-up."

"You mean you caught a Batgirl?" the other laughed. Something soft and silky was used as a gag in my mouth. I could feel something tie around my ankles.

I struggled against the binds, growling to the best of my ability.

"Guess so. Do you think boss will like her as leverage?"

"Yeah. He'll go for anything. Scarecrow wouldn't let someone kill a girl, right?"

"At least she ain't drunk."

The second man laughed. "She's a fighter though, I have to admit that."

Fighter, I'd show them a fighter. I wanted to tear the men's eyes out, show them I wasn't going to be a pawn, I wasn't just some tool for them to use! How dare they use me?

"How close are we to the rendezvous?" the first asked, setting me upright in a seat.

"Pretty close. We'll be there soon."

"Hopefully there ain't no Batmen tonight, am I right?" the other asked in jive.

I could hear the tires screech as the car whipped around corners. Before I could guess where the vehicle was, I heard the engine being cut, a door opening, and felt my body being pulled out and pushed to the ground. It hurt as my left shoulder hit concrete.

I made a muffled complaint as my collar yanked me up.

I could hear dogs barking. The blindfold was untied, as were my legs, allowing me to know where I was, a parking garage.

"Please, they're crawling in my mouth. Please I beg you, get them off." A boy about my age was pleading as he was dragged out of the van. My eyes landed on the big white van surrounded by men with guns.

"Who is this?" Chechen pointed at me, looking puzzled.

"We call 'er Batgirl. Found her on a motorcycle."

"Please, please get them off me!" the man begged again. "They're in my mouth, please!"

I glared at Chechen and snarled.

"Look what your drugs do to my customers!" Chechen yelled at the van, pointing to the man on the ground.

An oddly familiar voice sent shivers down my spine.

"Buyer beware."

I snarled again and fought against the grip on my shoulders. Not him. If I was, I was going to rip his hair out, make him pay…do anything to make him sorry.

"I told you my compound would take you places."

My compound was going to take him places, that was for sure. Once I got my hands on him. I struggled harder while Scarecrow got out of the van.

"I never said they'd be places you wanted to go."

I bet he didn't want to go to County, but so help me he was if it were up to me.

Chechen stepped forward. "My business, repeat customers!"

"If you don't like what I have to offer, you can buy from someone else. Assuming Batman left anyone to buy from."

The dogs started barking louder than before, pulling against their leaches. Chechen made it clear, "My dogs are hungry!"

My eyes landed on a shadow at the edge.

"Pity there's only one of you."

A lackey yelled from behind the van. I rolled my eyes, there were more, two more, as far as I could tell. One of them—the first one—cocked a gun.

How low could they bend?

The gun was fired, taking out one of the windows. My shoulders were released as the man holding me let go of me to save himself.

Scarecrow backed into the van again. "That's not him!"

"LOOSE THE DOGS!"

The order was obeyed and the dogs were released, attacking the nearest imposter Batman.

"GET THE GIRL BACK IN THE VAN!"

What?

Two pairs of arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me to the ground. A loud crash sounded over the gunshots, followed by the large black tank from earlier that night bursting through the wall. Gunshots were fired at the black vehicle, all of them bouncing off with a series of clanks.

It was then the tank's turn to fight back, firing what seemed missiles at the wall and a van. The van I was supposed to be in.

Two different, stronger arms pulled me off the ground and hoisted me over his shoulder. I caught a glimpse of a more certain figure of Batman jumping onto the white van as I was being carried off, I banging my combined fists against my captor's back and flailing my legs in an attempt to be let go.

Someone pulled the gag away from my mouth as they ran past.

The man carrying me pulled a gun from his hip and shot at the black-costumed man on the van, as I could see from under his arm.

I squealed in terror, "No!"

The man swung me off his shoulder and placed me by a ledge. "Stay here and stay quiet." He ordered as he retied my hands to the railing above my head.

"You brute!" I shouted, trying to kick him, barely noticing as Batman got up and jumped onto another ledge, waiting for a moment before leaping off. "How could you? How could you be so heartless!"

"It's me job." He muttered, pulling the gag over my mouth again. I jerked my leg upward, scoffing as it landed square under his jaw. "Ugh! What's your problem?" He growled, bringing his hand across my face before running off.

I blinked away stinging tears.

I could hear the Batman scolding some of the imposters below. I couldn't break the bond; I didn't want to break my wrists doing it, if I could.

Screeching tires met my ears, the tank whipped around the nearest corner, then halted with a screech. The top of the tank rose to reveal the Batman, looking commanding and serious.

"Who are you?" his voice sounded like crunching gravel.

I rolled my eyes while moving my jaw to maneuver the gag from covering my mouth. "I'm Nicole." I whispered once the gag was out of the way.

"Why are you here, Nicole?"

"I got taken by a thug in the alleyway on the way home from my friend's house. We were studying for a test."

He got down from the tank and walked towards me. "You were alone?"

"Yes."

"Did you have a cell phone?"

"Couldn't afford one," I admitted, curling my legs to my chest.

He was less than a foot away as he started to untie the rope around my wrists. "You're at college?"

"High school, actually. I'm seventeen, nearly eighteen. Foster kid. An orphan, basically, no one would take me in after the insanity in the narrows."

"I see."

"Is this an interrogation? I seriously didn't choose to be here, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I'm asking."

My hands fell to the ground, as the bond was broken. "Thank you. But what are you asking?"

"I'm asking why you're dressed in black from top to bottom."

I scoffed. "I was going to ask the same about you."

"Don't mess with me," he warned as he returned to his tank.

"Of course, Mr. Batman. I promise I'll be good. You'll never catch me being captured again."

Truthfully, I wondered if he caught the fact that I wasn't in high school…or school at all. It was just…not worth it to me. I had dropped out when my family died. No one really cared, not even my foster mother—which was a relief—no one had noticed me at school anyway.

* * *

I gingerly placed my middle and index fingers on a blossoming bruise on my cheeks. It was a vibrant purple splotch that couldn't be denied even with the best cover-up makeup. It stung to even touch the mark, covering over half of my face in the pattern of the thug's hand from my forehead to my chin.

"Miss Strange! Get out of that room or so help me I will break this door down!"

I rolled my eyes. "It's your place." I sighed. "Knock yourself out."

"Why you ungrateful little…"

I growled and pulled open the door. "Fine! I'll go to work." I growled, already pushed over the edge by my legal guardian. It irked me that I wasn't eighteen; that I could move out of this place.

I hadn't gotten far the previous night, and my Harley was still where I'd left it. Sliding the helmet over my head, I revved the motorcycle to life. I swung my left leg over the seat and headed off.

My job was a latte girl at Starbucks. I worked at making coffee eight-to-five everyday before coming back to my, quote-unquote, home. But everyday at eight fifteen a boy my age would come in and buy three lattes for him and his buddies while he tried to chat me up.

As I arrived at my post, I could hear the fast Italian of my manager.

"_Ragazza senza valore! Tardi ancora! Così aiutimi, se siete l'un nuovo tempo tardo, io vi licenzierà._"

I groaned at the threat. _Worthless girl! Late again! So help me, if you're late one more time, I'll fire you._ I tied a green apron over my jeans and blouse.

"I know, I know. _So, io, so._ I'm sorry, I'll never be late again, _prometto_!" I pleaded as the bell rung at the door. My eyes flew to the clock. Eight fifteen. It was him; Marcus, the flirt.

"Good morning my coffee flower! How are you this wonderful morning?" Marcus rested one arm on the counter. I moaned and looked up from my fingernails.

"I'm terrible, I ran into a wall last night. What do you want?" I muttered, already preparing his usual.

"You know full-well, Nicole, you're already making it."

I cast a glare at Marcus. "Well pay up. You know the price."

"No frequent drinker credit?"

"No."

"Come on, Niccy…just this once?"

"You're _pazzo_! Do you want me to get fired?" I hissed.

"I'm what-o?"

"Pazzo! Crazy!" I retorted, pushing his three lattes to him. "Now pay up or I'll tell my manager that you're not paying full price, and he'll throw you out!"

"For you, my love, I'll do anything!"

I growled and held out my hand, demanding the money. "Don't sweet-talk me, just PAY me."

The jerk pecked me on the cheek.

"_IDOITA! SCATTO! PERMESSO!_"

"Nicole!" My manager barked from behind me in his scolding voice. "Do not insult my customers."

"Your '_customer_' refuses to pay full price and thought kissing me without permission sufficed as pay," I spat, pointing to Marcus. "He does this every day! But now he has taken this over the edge."

Marcus shied away from the counter.

"Is this true, sir?" Gino sounded enraged.

Marcus nodded.

"Pay the full price or leave without your drinks. Is my policy! Pay now."

I smirked. "And for good measure, please stop flirting with me. I'm just not that into you."

Marcus frowned and slapped the money down on the table, proceeding to grab the drinks and head out without another word.

"Nicole. You can't let customers flirt with you."

"I _DON'T_ let them flirt with me. I tell them to stop and they don't listen. No one listens to me, I'm the worthless girl, remember?" I paused and sighed, then winced at the sharp pain on the side of my face with the bruise. "And it's just one guy."

"One guy that comes by every. Single. Day."

I moaned and let my head drop onto the counter. "Ungh…."

"Maybe you should give the boy a chance."

"Not on your life, not on mine," I mumbled under the mess of my hair. "I don't like to chase boys that chase me."

"You play hard-to-get, huh?"

"Sure, let's go with that," I sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A Batgirl among Batmen.**_

_**A Dark Knight/Batman Begins Fanfiction**_

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_**Chapter Two:**_The Difference between you and me

"_I was never able to comprehend why Gotham was chosen as the Crime Capital of America until I had seen crime first hand when I was ten years old. I guess that I lived a sheltered life until then. I could barely remember anything about my encounter with crime except that I escaped with only a few scratches. I know better know,"_

* * *

_  
_

"I'm _what_?"

"Fired."

I frowned, crossed my arms and refrained from throwing my apron on the floor. How could I be fired? I had been on time that day, and for the past few days, I'd been a good employee, I'd even been nice to the flirt as he'd finally come back and tried to ask me out again.

"But—but _why_?" I inquired, wide-eyed.

"You're being too nice to the customers…some of them are staring, some have asked if you've been put on drugs. I can't have that effect our business." Gino explained, holding his hand out for my apron and nametag.

I tried to wrap my head around this as I numbly took off my nametag and picked up my apron. I was being fired for being nice? What a wacky world we lived in. I dropped both items to the ground, looking as though I was ridding myself of the dust of the place.

"I don't work here, so I won't pick it up," I explained simply, talking hurting the fading bruise on my face. "_Arrivederci_, Gino." I shouted, not bothering to ask if I was getting my paycheck as I ran out the door. I was already formulating a plan for a new job. That job consisted of a camera, freelance photography, and me.

* * *

"How much are you asking for these photos, kid?"

"Five-hundred."

"Pretty cheap for freelance in Gotham." The editor's eyebrows rose as he flipped through my photos. "You sure these are the only pictures ya' got?"

I handed over one last picture, one of the floodlight shining on the clouds over Gotham, a bat marking the middle. That picture was done in black-and-white, my best work. "This is my most recent, done with my father's old Nikon."

The editor bit on the cigar in his mouth to keep it in as he laughed. "You got spunk! I like that! I'll give you six-hundred for the lot and offer you a job as a photographer for two months. I don't like you by the end of the period, I'll let you go, I like you, I keep you on."

My jaw dropped. "I don't think that's possible for a girl of my age!"

"Which is?"

"Eighteen in a few weeks, sir."

"You're hired!"

My jaw hit the floor. "Sir!"

"I insist! You start tomorrow with Janet's interview with Harvey Dent."

I gasped and tried not to faint. "But I'm seventeen! I'm not fit to take pictures of Harvey Dent." I said, believing this was a joke.

The phone on the editor's desk buzzed. "Chief, we have a hot new story, Batman reported dead my the Mayor's office." A voice on the other end said, almost bored. "We need to send a photographer and a reporter."

"Ha! This is bigger than Lau re-appearing outside of MCU! I have a photographer all set right here, send Janet to the site right now."

My hand went to my mouth in shock; my other hand squeezed my camera. "Why are you sending me there? A rookie?"

"Go or you're fired and I don't use the photos"

I sighed. "I see, Chief. I'll go there now."

* * *

The sight of the man was terrible. The man himself someone I had seen on the night I had been slapped so hard I was left bruised for weeks. He had been killed Phantom-of-the-Opera style or hung, I couldn't tell. (I was too busy trying to hold down my lunch.) His face had been painted white, a long, red smile painted over his lips and up his cheeks. Blood dripped from the hand-made cowl. I wanted to throw up and-or cry all at the same time. None of that should happen to anyone.

"Take the damn picture, kid, before the medics take it!" Janet hissed as she scribbled a description of the man. I'd hate to have to be a reporter there. It was hard enough to be a photographer.

I quickly took a picture as the cops asked reporters to step back.

"There's a card on his suit," I said softly, pointing to the card as I placed the camera on my chest, hanging by a thick black woven band around my neck.

"Very observant, kid." Janet spat, still scribbling.

Janet was a middle-aged woman with dyed-black hair (her blonde roots showed through—her dye was going to have to be touched up) and cobalt blue eyes. She had several wrinkles on her forehead despite the slightly obvious Botox done on the lower half of her face. She was short, about as tall as I, and slender.

"Can all of you please back away from the body, your articles should be about done by now." A rougher voice sounded from behind me.

"Lieutenant Gordon's right, step away from the body so that we can take it to the morgue."

I turned around to face an older man with graying brown hair. "Lieutenant Gordon, sir?"

"How did you get here?"

"I was hired as a photographer."

"You must have a strong stomach."

I nodded. "May I ask you a question, sir?"

"Just one."

"Do you think that the Joker what something to do with this murder?"

He chuckled. "You're an observant kid. I think that the Joker has a lot to do with this. I hope you have a good therapist, 'cause if the paper keeps you on, you may have to see a lot of stuff like this."

Janet shouted at me over the crowd. "KID! GET OVER HERE!"

"Thank you for listening, Lieutenant." I thanked him graciously before running after Janet.

* * *

"Do you like parties, Strange?" Chief asked me as I returned to the office with my camera in hand ready to develop the photos.

"Well…it depends. Who's throwing the party?"

"Bruce Wayne."

My eyes widened, "Oh."

"I want photos of the D.A., I want pictures of Mr. Wayne. I want pictures of everyone who's there that you can." He ordered.

"But I haven't even gotten my photos developed yet!"

"Well I don't care! Bring extra film, whatever!"

"I don't have any extra film, sir. This is my last roll."

"Your last roll? Maybe you should pick up another."

"I don't have the money!" I argued, stepping in front of the editor.

"You _do-hon't_ have the money," he laughed, pushing me aside. "Good one, kid,"

"No sir."

"Then pick up some from one of the other photographers, ask around."

"_The image is disturbing._" I stopped to look up at one of the many TV screens in the newspaper offices. On the screen was the man who had been murdered.

"_Tell them your name._"

"_Brian…Douglas._"

"_Are you the _real_ Batman?_"

"_No._"

"_No?_" Joker.

"_N-no._"

"_No! Then why do you dress up like him?_" A mysterious purple glove pulled the cowl off Brian's head and played with it, making sing-song sounds with it.

"_Because he's a symbol that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you._"

"_Oh, you do, Brian, you _really_ do._" The man onscreen started whimpering. I covered my eyes and looked away as the interrogation in a butcher's meat locker went on. How could one man be so twisted? An innocent man, being tortured in such a cruel way. It wasn't right, not right at all. I froze when I heard his threat to the Batman and Gotham.

"_People will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my word._"

"Frightening what haunts Gotham nowadays," Chief said, cringing. I nodded, clutching the nearest desk for support.

"That man is so twisted…I can't believe anyone here could do that, not even the worst Mob Boss."

"I doubt the body was that bad—?"

"Did you see the body up close? I did, it made me want to loose my lunch and cry all at the same time. It was so terrible!" I said softly as I headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To dig out a dress. I have a party to go to."

* * *

"Good evening, Miss. May I offer you a drink?"

"Oh, no, thank you. I don't drink." I shook my head as a passing waiter held a glass of champagne out to me.

"Wise choice."

"Good evening, Miss Strange. You must be the photographer from The _Gotham Times_." A new voice said from behind me. I squealed softly and turned around to see an elderly gentleman in a nice black suit and bowtie.

"Yes, sir. But, if I may, how did you know me?"

"I keep up-to-date on the _Times_, Miss Strange, including its website. You were added a few hours ago," he replied, giving a small dip of his head.

"Well then, I feel honored, Mister…um…"

"You may call me Alfred, Miss Strange."

I chuckled. "Please, call me Nicole." I insisted, lifting up the camera. "I'm only a photographer, shhh…" I put a finger to my lips before backing into the crowd as the elevator dinged. I stood, looking more than a little awestruck, by the large windows. The guests were all high profile—but I was saving my film for Bruce Wayne and the D.A., Harvey Dent himself. I looked up as helicopter blades whirred in the air. I prepared my camera for Wayne's arrival. When I peered out the window, it wasn't all that shocking to see two cover girls with him.

"I'm sorry that I'm late. I'm glad to see that you all got started without me," Mr. Wayne said, walking through the crowd and leaving the girls behind. I lifted my camera and snapped a photo as he continued, "Now, where is Harvey? Where–? Harvey Dent, the man of the hour," I snapped another photo, "Where is Rachel Dawes? She is my oldest friend. Come here. When Rachel first told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say: 'The guy from those God-awful campaign commercials?',"

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"_I believe in Harvey Dent_. Yeah, nice slogan, Harvey. But it caught Rachel's attention. And then I started to pat attention to Harvey…and all that he's been doing as our new DA. And you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent. I believe that on his watch Gotham can feel…a little safer, a little more optimistic."

I smiled to myself, "If I had a glass I would toast to that," I nodded.

"Look at this face. This is the face of Gotham's bright future. To Harvey Dent. Let's hear it for him." Bruce concluded, beginning to clap for the DA and getting everyone else to do the same. I snapped one last picture and backed towards the elevator, pretty sure that nothing else was going to happen.

Just as I was about to press the button, the doors slid open a hand rested on my shoulder. I clenched my fists while closing my eyes as I spoke. "Hey, buddy, I don't want any trouble." I said wearily, sighing. I opened my eyes to find myself looking at a police officer who then nearly toppled on top of me. "Good grief!" I cried, jumping out of the way.

"We made it," the Joker said airily, pushing me aside.

I started to run past him, shouting, "The Joker!" before he grabbed the collar of my dress and pulled me back, cutting off my second shout. He threw me to the floor without hesitation. "Jerk!"

"That's my job, toots." He kicked me in the side and rolled me over with his foot. After that I didn't hear much besides a shotgun firing and the Joker talking. "Where is Harvey Dent?"

I gasped and tired to get to my feet, already feeling sore where I'd been subjected to an equivalent of or full-on whiplash and being kicked in the side by a murdering maniac. He couldn't have been in the room, Harvey, I mean. I couldn't hear him.

I started down the hall, knocking on each door, calling out "Mr. Dent?" softly while trying to figure out what was going on. It was by the third door that I heard Batman's voice over everything along with Joker taunting him, followed by the crashing of glass.

At last I found a double-door with a bar through the handles. Pulling out the bar out, I opened the door to find Dent. "Mr. Dent!" I breathed, relieved. "I swear to, I mean–I was scared that the Joker had"–

"Did someone call for a Joker?"

I gasped and turned around, now face-to-face with the maniac. "Good Gotham you're everywhere!" I whispered, slapping my hand across his face before he could do anything. His hand mimicked my action.

"Now what was this about Dent?" he said with a laugh, pulling me closer by my dress neck. "I heard you say his name and then mine. Not talking to the cheese puffs, are we?"

"No, that's something you'd do. You're insane enough," I mumbled to myself, feeling like the Joker had missed something. Looking over my shoulder, I noticed that Harvey Dent was gone. "I was imagining things, I guess. I thought I saw Harvey Dent in there. I was going to tell him to get out, but then you came and you cleared my mind,"

Wow, that sounded awkwardly flirtatious at the end. I wanted to smack myself, if it were possible, seeing as I was now about half a foot off the floor because of how I was being lifted by my dress.

"So, you're a little nutty,"

"I had some champagne! I'm a little drunk," I grimaced.

Joker's grotesque and mangled lips curled up into a smile. "I think I have a little job for you honey-bunch."

"If it involves me and you in a dark room don't even try it," I whispered fiercely, being half-pulled, half-dragged behind the Joker out of the building. As we passed a group of police officers, he drew a knife from his pocket and placed it to my neck as he pulled me close to him and held my hand behind my back.

"Be cooperative," he growled in my ear before nudging me forcefully forward.

I was now officially a hostage.


End file.
